especially now
by graceviolets
Summary: Quinn finds herself by her father's bedside a car accident. As he struggles for his life, she struggles with the concepts of forgiveness, of moving on and of love. Not only for him but also for Puck who keeps appearing at her side, whether she wants him there or not.
1. Chapter 1

Lima looked the same and yet Quinn felt entirely different as the cab drove her through the town that used to be her home. The car passed the High School where new unsecure girls and boys surely tormented each other. She passed lanes and lanes of houses; Rachel's, Brittany's, her own. The driver stopped the car outside the hospital. It looked smaller and shabbier than she remembered.

"There you are, miss" the driver said.

She paid him and stepped onto parking lot. She hadn't been to Lima in three years and moreover, she hadn't been to this hospital since she gave birth to Beth. Ages and ages and ages ago.

"Oh, honey" her mother whispered. "Oh, honey. I'm so glad you're here."

Judy Fabray looked disheveled in a way that an ex-wife shouldn't have to be. Her mother and father had been divorced for nearly five years and yet, here Judy was, at her former husband's bedside.

"Of course" Quinn lied. "Of course I'm here."  
"He hasn't woken up yet. _Oh, honey_."

Quinn looked at her father. Russell Fabray. The man who had made her childhood a living hell. The man who had kicked her out her house at sixteen. The man who she actually had sworn and vowed and promised herself to never talk to again. And yet, here she was. Just like her mother.

"Will he wake up?" she asked, rather boldly.

Her mother almost flinched. She had cried for hours and hours it seemed by the look of the redness of her eyes.

"Oh, honey, the doctors don't know. He's… He has swelling in the brain and…"

She broke down, strangled cries the only thing escaping her throat. Quinn took her hand and held it. Her father was hooked up to numerous chords and wires and they all ticked and beeped. His face was blue and black and his eyes were closed. Quinn tried to stop hating him and almost succeeded.

…

The wreckage of her father's car was easier to look at then his wrecked body. It was still in the police office parking lot since no one had moved it in the almost twelve hours since the crash. The other driver was dead, a policeman told her softly. Quinn didn't ask who it was. She didn't ask whose fault it was. She just nodded.

"It's repairable" the policeman told her. "If you think it's worth it."

"I don't" she replied. "But my father does."  
"I can call a mechanic. He can give you a verdict."  
She thanked him and walked away. Not until he had gone inside to make the call did she realize that it was Mike. He must have thought she was crazy for not recognizing him. Three years at each other's side and still she hadn't reacted at the sight of this face.

"Hey."

She turned around. Mike was coming back towards her. How could she not have known it was him? Next to him walked someone she did recognize. Very well. Too well.

"I found the best mechanic in town" Policeman Mike told her.

"Thanks" she said.

Puck grinned at her. He looked uncomfortable and she looked away as to not spot any pity on his face. She wanted nothing less than to see him feel sorry for her. She was the one who should feel sorry for him, for not leaving this town, not making anything of himself.

"Can you fix it?" she asked.

"The car?"

"Yes."  
"Well, hello to you too, miss Fabray. The prodigal daughter has returned at last."  
"Puck…" Mike mumbled warningly.

"I guess I have" she said and wondered if maybe he didn't know about her father.

She looked up and met his eyes. No, he clearly didn't know. He was smirking at her in the way that had always irritated her.

"Took you long enough. Three years since the last time?"  
"Have you been keeping count?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"Puck, the car" Mike reminded him nervously.

"Right."

He inspected the completely dented right side of the BMW that her father had driven ever since the divorce. The most expensive car in Lima. Even if that wasn't' saying much.

"It'll cost you" Puck said finally. "Might not be worth it to be honest."

"My father would want it fixed" she said, as if he was already dead.

"Is it old Russell's car then?" Puck asked. "Might try to dent it some more then, after how he treated me. Evil son of a bitch."

Quinn said nothing. Julian shifted nervously.

"Puck. Mr. Fabray was in an accident. He's in the hospital" he said finally.

Quinn closed her eyes.

"Just fix it. I don't care about the price."  
And she left before he could say anything to try to make up for calling her father, who might be on his death bed, evil.

…

Michael's voice was soft in her ear. Like a hot bath after a cold day or honey on a sore throat.

"I'm sorry" he said. "I wish I could make it all better."  
She leaned against the white hospital wall. She had been up since three am and was so impossibly tired. All she wanted was to go home and sleep but her mother wouldn't leave. She sat on a stool and held the hand of the man who had cheated on her with multiple women, always degraded her and then left her flat.

"I just want to go home" she whispered. "I don't belong here anymore."

"You belong with me" he said.

"Yes. Only with you."

She wanted desperately for him to say something that would make her feel better. His voice and the sound of his breathing were soothing, but not enough. She wanted to be with him DC. She wanted to sit in their apartment and he would read up for something he was doing in the office and she would read the paper with her feet on his lap. A normal day. A day when no one was on the brink of death.

"I miss you already" she confessed.

"I miss you too."

"I don't know how long I'll be here. Tell your father-"  
"Don't worry, Quinn" he told her. "Go be your family."  
"Okay" she said reluctantly.

She hung up the phone and went back into her father's room. A nurse was there, checking the digits on the three monitors. She looked familiar too.

"Marley, right?" Quinn asked.

The girl nodded. Quinn nodded back. She had nothing to say to this girl, didn't know her and never had. But it struck her that everywhere she turned, there were ghosts from her past. Mike, Marley and Puck. She wasn't invisible here. Everyone knew her and she knew everyone.

"Your father is doing the same. No worse" Marley said softly.

And no better, Quinn thought.

"The doctor will be here in a few minutes. He will discuss your options with you."  
"Options?" Judy echoed.

Quinn sat down on the floor next to her mother's stool. Her father's chest rose and fell. She noticed that Judy had imitated with rhythm so that they were breathing in the same pace.

"Is there anyone we should call?" Quinn asked.

"Gran? Jeff? Anyone else?"

"I called your gran. She's too weak to fly. Jeff's in Shanghai, I haven't been able to reach him."

"He must have someone else."

"He has us."  
"An ex-wife and an estranged daughter."  
"Neither of that matters now."

Quinn didn't protest. She clamped her mother's other hand but refused to breathe in her father's pace.

…

They were still waiting for the doctor when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Sorry" Puck said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Judy said nothing. She gave Quinn a look that could mean anything but did mean very specific things.

"What do you want?" Quinn asked.

"It's about the car."

Judy seemed to relax or at least exhale. Puck was that much of a threat to her. Even with Russell in the hospital, Puck's appearance made her uncomfortable. He was the person who had torn their family apart, at least by Judy's definition. Quinn never fought her on it. Everyone needed a scapegoat.

"Let's go into the hallway" Quinn said, getting up from the floor. "I'll try to find the doctor."

Judy nodded and Puck followed her way into the sterile, white corridor. He looked older. Of course. So did she. They weren't kids anymore. Quinn was turning twenty-five on Friday. She wore reading glasses now. Puck had let his hair grow out, just an inch. He was wearing a black leather jacket and a white t-shirt and jeans that he probably wore in High School. He was her biggest ghost of all. Every part of him had once been hers. Her body seemed to remember that.

"I'm sorry about before" he said.

"It's fine."

"I didn't know."  
"I know."

He stretched out his hand and touched her shoulder. She instinctively backed away from his touch.

"Sorry."  
She nodded. She turned her head, trying to spot someone in a white coat to talk about _options _with but the hallway was deserted.

"The car" she reminded him.

"Right. I towed it to the shop and took a better look. It won't be impossible to fix it."  
"I already told you to go ahead."

"Okay."

He never took his eyes off her. It scared her in an entirely different way than her father maybe dying. He hadn't come here to talk about the car. He had come to apologize. And maybe see her again.

"I didn't mean the thing about your father being evil."

"Yes, you did" she said plainly.

"No-"

"He's not dead yet" she said. "Save the lies for the funeral."

"He might not die" he told her, which didn't sooth her like he probably had intended.

She just nodded and wanted him to go away. He was nothing to her anymore. Nothing. Once upon a time, he had been everything. She had been naïve then. They were nothing alike. She didn't need his apologies.

"I'm glad to see you" he blurted out.

"Please don't."  
"You don't call anymore" he smiled, as if it was all a joke.

"Don't."

"Dating the son of a congress man? Nice."

"Please don't do this" she said. "This has nothing to do with my father."  
"You hate your father."

"Just leave me alone" she whispered.

…

Her father's doctor was Santana's father. Of course. The man who had watched Quinn grow up, in their kitchen, drinking Kool-Aid and painting his daughter's toenails. The past was everywhere. He made small talk with Judy about his wife and her book club. Judy replied something in such a low voice that no one heard it. He asked Quinn about DC and told her about Santana's "career" in New York. At last, he exhaled and picked her Russell's chart.

"Your husb-, well, your father, Quinn, has severe swelling to the brain. If it doesn't go down, it will injure the brain permanently" he told them.

"Can't you operate?" Judy asked.

"Yes, and we will probably have to if the swelling does not go down on its own. However, Mr. Fabray is very unstable and we would rather not operate him in this state."

"So we have to decide?" Quinn asked. "Either we wait and he might die? Or you operate and he might die on the operating table?"

"Actually, _you _decide, Quinn" Dr. Lopez said. "You are his daughter, his closest family."

He looked almost embarrassedly at Judy who had put her head in her hands. Perhaps she regretted the divorce now. Or perhaps she had relieved that she didn't need to decide. All the pressure on Quinn. Just like old times.

"I don't know anything about medicine" she said.

"But you know your father. What would he want?" Dr. Lopez asked.

"You're wrong" Quinn said. "I don't know him. I haven't spoken to him since High School."

The doctor looked pained and like he was searching for words. Quinn decided to save him. It wasn't his fault, any of this.

"I have to sleep" she said. "Even if it's just for an hour before I decide."  
Dr. Lopez nodded. He left the room and Judy began to cry again. Quinn tried to sooth her but her exhaustion was bringing her down. Her mind was spinning. Yesterday had been a perfectly normal day and here she was, back in Lima, with father hooked up to machines and her mother crying her eyes out. And with Puck at her heels, always there to remind her of his existence.

"Mom, let's go home" she whispered.

"I don't want to leave him here. All on his own."

"He's asleep, mom. They are keeping him under. He won't wake up until the doctor's decide too."  
"But he might die" Judy whispered.

…

"I'll call Marcus, my father's friend, he's a neurosurgeon. He will know what to do."

"I don't think anyone knows what is best" Quinn whispered. "I think it's a gamble."  
"Nonsense. Did the doctor tell you that? I'll ask Marcus to fly over and do the surgery himself."  
"Don't" she whispered.

Just like her mother didn't want to leave Russell, Quinn didn't want to leave her mother. She spent the late evening walking up and down hospital corridors. In all honestly, she thought of a lot of other things than the choice she would have to make. She thought of Lima. Of her friends who had left and those who remained, trapped within the town, never getting out. She couldn't picture anything worse. And she thought of Puck. The father of her only child. The only person she had ever loved, except for Michael and perhaps that child. And she thought of how she had ignored his existence for years and years and yet, the second he stepped in front of her, it all returned.

"Quinn, are you listening to me?" Michael asked.

"Yes" she lied.

"I'll call you in an hour with more information. Okay?"

"Okay" she echoed.

"Get some sleep."

"Okay."  
She heard him hung up on the other end. Michael was resourceful. Michael knew people and things. He wouldn't be wandering aimlessly around the hospital. She thought of going back to room but stopped herself. She couldn't stand the sound of her mother's sobs and those machines for another second. Instead she googled _Lima + mechanic_, trying to find where Puck worked, probably at Burt's shop. Burt's shop, she found out, had changed its name. It was called_ Puckerman's_ now and the contact info included a cell phone number. She dialed it without thinking.

"Hello?"

"Hi" she said. "It's me."

"Quinn?"

"Yes."  
There was quiet. She thought of everything that was already messed up. This was just another thing.

"What's up?" he asked, as if they were back in High School and she called him to pick her up from the dentist or something.

"I do hate my father."  
"I shouldn't have said that either. I'm just… You just bring out the worst in me."  
"That was always our problem."

"One of our problems" he joked.

"Right."

Silence again. She checked the time. Almost midnight.

"I hate him and I have to make the decision that decides if he lives or dies."

Her voice broke. She hated when her voice broke.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"Still at the hospital."  
"Want some company?"

She said nothing and he knew that that meant yes.

…

He had left the leather jacket at home and wore a thick sweater instead. It made him look softer, less scary, less like he would hurt her.

"It's not right for them to put this on you" he said.

"Who else?" she asked.

"I don't know."  
They sat on the floor in the entrance hall. Visiting hours were over but no one threw them out. A security guard paced some distance away, otherwise it was completely quiet.

"You, me and this hospital, eh?" he said, nudging her and smiling.

She actually smiled.

"Always ends in tears."  
"Don't say that."

"My mother won't leave his side. Loyal to her death, or his, I guess."

"She's a good person."

"She still loves him. She got a divorce, stuck up for herself and still, loves him."

"What about you?" Puck asked.

"He made my life hell."  
"I know. Mine too."  
"Yeah. I never thought I would ever see him again. Now I'm deciding his fate."  
"My father abandoned us and still when he came back, I gave him all my money."

"We're better off without them" she decided.

"Are we really?" he asked.

"No. Yes. I don't know."

For over three years, no, even longer than that, she had thought of Puck and only thought of the way that he differed from her. How he was rash and sometimes violent and hated school and never had voted in an election. And now, when she sat with him on the hard floor, she could only remember in the ways that they were similar.

"Your phone is ringing" he said.

She hadn't noticed. It was Michael.

"Answer it" he told her.

She did. Michael told her that his family friend had told him that it was case to case and that Dr. Jones would be on the next flight over to help her decide. Quinn thanked him and thought of what Dr. Lopez would say.

"The congressman?" Puck asked when she hung up.

She nodded, not bothering to correct him. Michael was the son of a congressman, not one himself, but her father was dying so who cared?

"What did he say?"

"Nothing that helps me right now."  
"I'm sorry."  
"I know."  
He put his arm around her should and it was platonic so she let it rest there. It felt nice to be touched. She hadn't realized how tense she had been until someone else's touch was soft.

"I might fall asleep" she told him.

"Okay" he said simply.

…

She woke up forty-five minutes later with her head on his shoulder. He was sitting there, not moving, next to her. He wasn't even fiddling with his phone. She had never seen anyone be that still.

"He called" he told her as he spotted her open eyes. "I think it went to voicemail."

She straightened her back and flexed her neck out of its cramp. Michael had called twice. She was too exhausted to call him back. He would understand. He always understood.

"I'm sorry I called" she whispered. "I had no right."  
"Not everything is about what's right" he replied.

"I don't love you anymore. You know that right?"  
The exhaustion made her blunt and unkind. Or maybe she was too tired to mask her real personality. He would probably argue for that one.

"Not everything has to be about love" he said which was stupid.

Everything was about love. Love was the reason for her being back here in the first place. Love was the reason she hadn't gone home to sleep. Love was the reason that Michael was sending her a surgeon from DC.

"Did you ever love me?" he asked, nudging her again.

"Don't."  
"You brought it up."  
"Well, I take it back."  
She got to her feet and stretched her aching muscles against the ceiling. The forty-five minute rest felt like nothing. Her mind was not any clearer. Thank God for Michael's friend. Thank God for Michael.

"You should go home" she told Puck. "It's late."

"It's not that late."  
"I have to go back to my father's room and my mother's there."  
"You mean the woman who hates me?"  
"I don't want to upset her."

"Is my very presence so disturbing?"

She nodded, bluntly and coldly. She hadn't been this mean in years. Perhaps he really brought out the worst in her.

"I'm glad you're back. For whatever reason" he said and she wished that she hadn't.

When she didn't respond, he left. She felt a sliver of cold air from the opened door before he was gone. She took the elevator back to the third floor and her father's damaged body. Judy was half-sleeping, but sat up straight when Quinn entered.

"Oh honey" she mumbled, her voice full of motherly sympathy.

"Michael's sending one of his father's friends is on the next flight out of DC. A doctor. He will make us decide."

"Thank the Lord for Michael."

Despite Quinn thinking almost the same thing mere minutes ago, she felt annoyance with her mother's complete faith in someone she had never met. All she knew about Michael was that he had a good family, a nice apartment and a Harvard education. And evidently, that was enough.

"I haven't spent this much time with your father since the divorce" Judy sighed.

"Isn't that what a divorce is for?"  
"Don't be so harsh. Life isn't black and white."

"Never?" Quinn asked doubtingly.

"Almost never."

"Right."

Her mother was still clutching his hand. They had never been the hand-holding kind of couple. More like kisses on the cheek at parties and one with tongue on New Year's. Hand-holding felt more intimate. Quinn wondered, if the roles were reversed, if Russell would hold Judy's hand like this. She couldn't picture it.

"What did Puck tell you?"

"What?"  
"Before. About the car?"

"He towed it to the shop. It's fixable. Might be expensive though."  
"Your father loves that car."

"I know. I told him to do it whatever the cost."

"He didn't have to come here to tell you that."

"I don't think he has my phone number."

"Oh" Judy said. "Right."

"Don't worry about Puck, mom."

"Oh honey, I don't worry about Puck. I worry about you when he's around."

"Come on" Quinn tried. "You make me sound weak."

"Quinny, you are human. We all have weaknesses."

"Well, he isn't mine."

Her mother nodded as if she agreed. Quinn stared at the monitors that showed her father's heartbeat. And she thought of all the times that she had thought of him as heartless. Apparently she had been wrong.


	2. and then we wait

Dr. Jones appeared in a white coat and scrubs, as if he really worked in this particular hospital and as if it was a normal day. Dr. Lopez and he spoke rapidly about pressure and about side effects and things in Latin. Quinn watched them wordlessly.

"Of course, it is still up to you, Quinn" Dr. Jones said, as if he knew her well and had not only met her three minutes earlier.

"She's not a doctor" Judy whispered. "She's just a child."

"Legally, Judy, she isn't" Dr. Lopez said, calmly. "She is your child and Russell's child and that gives her the right to decide what we do next."

Judy hid her face in her hands. She was trembling. Quinn wondered how long her mother would survive on zero sleep and too much caffeine. Not much longer. This endless wait was slowly draining her of power.

"Advise me then" she said to both the doctors in front of her.

They shared a look, pity on their faces. Quinn looked away.

"The swelling hasn't gone down overnight" Dr. Jones began. "Which might indicate that it won't."

"He won't wake up?" Judy asked, her voice tiny.

"Judy, the reason he isn't waking up is because we're keeping him under" Dr. Lopez said, slowly, and maybe for the eighth time.

"Operate" Quinn said.

"You sure?" Dr. Lopez asked.

"Are you certain?" Dr. Jones asked.

"No, of course I'm not but we can't wait any longer. We're going crazy."

Santana's father met her eyes and nodded. He understood. She was making this decision for her mother's health as much as for her father's. Sometimes having people who knew you around wasn't that bad after all.

"You'll have to sign some documents" he said softly.

She remembered him putting a Band-Aid on her knee once when she and Santana had been roller skating and she had fallen over. He had been kind then, gentle and patted her hand when he cleaned out the small rocks. In that moment, she wanted Dr. Jones to fly back home. He hadn't helped her at all with deciding. In that moment, she trusted Dr. Lopez more.

"Come with me" a nurse told Quinn. "I'll help you with the paper work."  
Quinn followed her mutely into a room with a big poster of Van Gogh's _Starry Night_ on the wall. She got the feeling that this was the room where people received the bad news, that their mother or father or sister or wife had passed away. Maybe she would be back here in mere hours.

"Sign here" the nurse said, pointing at a line at the bottom of a page.

And Quinn did.

…

"They are prepping him surgery right now" she told Michael.

She heard many voices in the background on his end and concluded that he was probably eating lunch at his desk. The one next to his, with her computer and things, was empty. She wished to be back in the midst of political crisis or a discussion about tax revenue or _something_.

"I promise, Marcus is the best neurosurgeon on the east coast. It'll all be fine."  
It was easy for him to say that. It was easy for him to sit in DC with his feet up, eating a ham sandwich and telling her that it would be okay. She wanted to beg him to come to Lima, to be with her, to hold hand. No one held her hand. All she ever did was hold her mother's and it wasn't the same thing as being held.

"I can't handle the wait" she told him. "We're going mad."

"Get some fresh air or go home and take a shower" he suggested.

He was solution-orientated, just like she was, normally, and for the first time she hated it. She didn't want him to tell her what to do. She wanted him to say things that would make everything better, magically.

"Mary sends her love" he told her. "All of the guys do."

"Thanks" she replied tonelessly.

"Hey" he said, lowering his voice. "Hey, don't be mad at me."

"I'm not, Michael. I'm just… tired."

They hung up. She felt frustrated with him, because he was unaffected and he felt frustrated with her because she was being unreasonable. She hated feeling upset with him. If there was one person in the entire world she always wanted to love, it was Michael. He deserved it, all the love that anyone could give him. She was lucky to be the one who was allowed to share hers.

"Are you alright?" her mother asked, worry in every feature of her face.

"Yes. I'm just…"

"He sent us the doctor, Quinny. He's doing all he can for you."

"He could be here."

"He has an important job, honey. You know that."

"Do you even know what he does, mom?" Quinn asked, snapping as she had promised herself not to. "Do you know anything about him except that his father is Congressman Myers and that he went to Harvard?"

They were the only ones in the waiting room. Quinn's voice was too loud for the empty room but she felt like she had been speaking in a whisper since arriving to Lima. Her throat burned and ached and she needed to hear herself speak.

"I know he loves you" Judy said, calmly. "And I know what you will need him, whatever happens today."

Quinn nodded. Her mother didn't deserve to be yelled at. She was hanging onto her composure by threads. Quinn shouldn't be the one to push her over the edge.

"I need some fresh air" Quinn said.

"Okay. I'll be here."

"Come with me" she begged. "Mom, let's go for a walk."

Judy shook her head.

"I need to stay. But you go. I'll call you if there's any news."

"Mom, they might be in there for hours."

"Or they won't."

…

She walked around the town square four times before sitting down. It was a Tuesday at noon and most people about were retired couples and mothers with newborn babies. Everything was quiet. No planes overhead, no screeching tires, no one calling out about the new protest in the State Park. She had never noticed it before.

"Quinn?"

She looked up and into Jake Puckerman's eyes. She didn't know him anymore than she knew Nurse Marley, except that he was Puck's younger brother.

"Hi" she said.

"Did you come to check on the car?"  
"What?"  
"Your father's car? It's in the shop. Puck's working on it right now."  
"You work there too?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's called _Puckerman's, _isn't it?" he grinned.

Only then did she notice the oil on his hands and the stained shirt with his name on it. Somehow she had thought of him still being in High School, screwing girls over or something.

"Sorry to hear about your dad" he said.

"Thanks."

He had never met her father, she was pretty sure of that, and still there was a look on his face while he said it. Puck had probably told him. Quinn wished he hadn't. While on his deathbed, Russell didn't need more people who disliked him. Having his own daughter for that purpose what enough.

"You coming?" he asked.

"Okay" she agreed because she had nowhere else to go.

She checked her phone as they walked down a side street. Her mother hadn't called. Michael hadn't either.

"It's a nice car" Jake told her as they walked into the shop. "Your father's."

"Yeah" she said.

There it was. It still looked more like a wreck than anything she had ever seen before. For the first time, she thought of the other driver, the one who had died. A shiver went down her spine.

"You got lunch?" Puck's voice sounded from under vehicle.

"Yeah" Jake replied. "And I found someone else."

There was a faint trace of tease in his voice, like she was Puck's surprise, a girl jumping out of a cake, or something. Puck emerged from under the car and spotted her. He smiled.

"Hey" he said.

"Hi" she replied.

"The repair isn't done yet" he told her.

"I know. I wasn't planning on coming."

"I'll set up lunch" Jake said and disappeared through a side door.

Puck dried his hands off on a rag as he walked towards her. She wished she hadn't come.

"You hungry?"

"What?"  
"I bet Jake bought too much food. You want some?"  
She opened her mouth to decline but her stomach gave her away. It rumbled loudly which made Puck smile.

"No pressure" he said. "I won't ask you if you love me or not. Promise."  
She smiled too.

"Okay."

…

It was nice to talk about normal things. Or at least listen to people talking about normal things. Jake didn't seem to be uncomfortable about her being there because of her dying father's car. He spoke about everything and anything. Quinn found out that he had a kid and wife. She found out that the baby had colic and that his wife was going mad because of the screaming.

"Do you believe it?" Puck asked her. "My idiot little brother is a dad and pays a mortgage."

"Not really" she said honestly.

"Me neither" Jake said.

"Was she your High School sweetheart?" Quinn asked. "Did you dance with her at prom and swear your eternal fidelity?"  
"Well, I had a few High School sweethearts to be honest" he replied, grinning sheepishly.

"You two really are related" she sighed.

She checked her phone again. Her mother still hadn't called.

"Hey" Puck said, snagging the last sandwich from the plate and stuffing it into his mouth. "I wasn't as bad as him."  
"Please don't compare conquests" she begged and was surprised by herself and her ability to joke.

"There's no contest" Jake shrugged. "I lose now that I'm a married man. Eternal fidelity and all that."

Quinn wondered how old he was. Two years younger than she? Three? She didn't really know, but he was very young. Too young to have kid and wife and house. He hadn't even gone to college.

"He asked her to marry him and she wasn't even pregnant" Puck told her. "Imagine that."

She finished her sandwiched and listened them talk about some kind of family gathering this weekend. On paper, they had such a dysfunctional family, but in real life, they made it work. She wished her family was like that. She checked her phone again, still nothing.

"You own this place together?" she asked, to distract herself.

"Nah, Puck owns it, really. He bought it from Burt. I just work here."

"We're partners" Puck said, inclusively.

"Good for you" she said.

"How about you?" he asked. "What is really that you do?"  
"I work in Congressman Myers' office, with public relations; you know writing press releases and updating the website."

"Wow. Have you seen the president?" Jake asked.

She laughed.

"Yes."

"And your boyfriend, he works there too?" Puck asked innocently.

"Yes" she repeated. "He's in charge of PR."

"So he's your boss?" Jake grinned.

"Something like that" she replied.

Her phone suddenly did ring. She jumped and fumbled with the buttons before pressing the right one. It was her gran, calling from Georgia. Quinn excused herself to explain everything a very slow and clear voice to her father's mother.

…

"Who was it?" Puck asked, joining her on the pavement.

"My gran. She's a bit… out of it, I guess. This is the third time I told her everything and she keeps forgetting."  
"Are you coming back inside?"

"My father is in surgery right now. He might die this minute and I'm sitting here with you and your brother, talking about nonsense" she told him, staring at his face and not really seeing it.

"He's not going to die."

"You don't know that."

She sounded like a child, she knew it but couldn't help it. For an hour she had been able to almost forget about Judy's tears and Russell's injuries. It had been selfish and childish and still she had left her mother all alone.

"I have to go" she told him.

"To the hospital? Wait, I'll give you a ride."  
"No, I…"

"Come on. My car is parked right here."  
She nodded mutely, only because it would be quicker to drive than for her to walk. He pointed at a blue truck, the same blue truck he had always owned. The one he driven her in to doctor's appointments and home from the hospital after their daughter was born. He was a mechanic and still drove the same, old truck.

"Don't say it" he smiled. "I know, I should fix it up."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"Well, you're unique in that way then."  
He unlocked the door and she clambered in. The smell that hit her almost wet her eyes with its familiarity. She hadn't thought of the smell in years, the smell of oil and burnt rubber and the kind of soap Puck used. She wished silently that he had bought a new car, one that didn't haunt her like this one. And she wished her father would hurry up and survive so that she could go back home.

"Look, I know this feels like shit. But he will make it. I know he will."

She leaned her head against the window.

"Don't try to comfort me" she whispered.

"Why not? I figured someone should."

"What is that supposed to mean?"  
"Nothing."

They were quiet once again. His eyes were fixed on the street ahead, stopping at cross walk to let a mother with a stroller cross.

"Where's the congressman? Why isn't he here?" he asked.

"He's not a congressman" she sighed.

"Okay then, even more reason for him to be able to make it here to hold your hand."  
"I don't need anyone to hold my hand" she snapped.

"There's nothing wrong with asking for help" he said slowly. "I thought you figured that out by now."

"You know nothing about me."

"I used to know you pretty well."

"That was a long time ago. So much has changed since then" she told him. "At least for me."  
He raised his eyebrows.

"And nothing has changed for me?" he asked. "I'm still a teenager?"

"I don't know" she replied. "I don't know you."

"Then don't make assumptions like that."  
"You started it."

They were quiet until he parked the car outside the main doors of the hospital. She thanked him coldly for the ride. She felt like she should be angry at him but there was no room in her for it. All she felt was fear and exhaustion and worry.

"Remember what I said" he told her.

"Remember what?" she asked.

"It's not bad to ask for help."

She slammed the door shut without another comment.

…

Judy still sat in the waiting room. She looked she hadn't moved an inch in the last hour. Quinn sat down next to her and took her hand.

"Any news?" she said as a greeting.

"No" her mother replied.

"I guess that's good news."  
Her mother nodded. She had her eyes closed and head bent, as if she was widow in mourning.

"I got hold of Jeff" Quinn said.

"Oh, good."

"He's flying back next week."

"Good, good."  
Quinn sighed inwardly. Yes, she was worried too. Yes, she understood that her father might die. But seeing her mother like this was frustrating. Russell had treated her horribly. He had cheated on her, verbally abused her and when she confronted him, divorced her and left her no money. If it hadn't been for her family's small wealth, she would have been broke. He had ruined her life. He didn't deserve her sorrow and her tears.

"Mom, you don't have to be here" Quinn said.

"I want to be here."

"He's not your husband anymore."  
"I still love him."

Her words were pure and fragile and Quinn didn't know what to say. Judy was an attractive woman in her mid-forties. She volunteered at the library three days a week to have something to do, arranged book-club meetings and cooked very, very well. And still she was alone. Quinn had never really thought about why that was, never questioned why her mother never seemed to date. But here the answer was, of course, despite everything, she still loved her ex-husband.

"What am I going to do if he dies?" she croaked.

The hand Quinn was holding shook violently. Her mother's sobs felt louder and more desperate than before. A woman across the room looked pitying at them. She got up from her plastic chair and handed Judy a tissue. Quinn hated her kindness but said nothing. This was not the moment to tell strangers to stay out of their business.

"He's not going to die" Quinn whispered, just like Puck had. "Mom, you know he wouldn't die on us."

"I don't know anything."

He had been in surgery for four hours. She couldn't remember if that was normal or too much. She couldn't remember much.

"I'll get Dr. Lopez" she said.

"No" her mother whispered. "Don't leave. Stay here with me."  
And Quinn sat there, with her mother, for another four hours.

…

"You have to have faith" Michael told her.

"In what?" she asked.

"God, Marcus, your father, I don't know."

"Three men that have never given me any reason for me to trust them."

"Quinn…"  
"I'm sorry."

She heard him exhale loudly, probably trying to find strength to be calm and collected. He had never been around her behaving this way. She had never felt this worried and irritated and scared since leaving Lima all those years earlier and within hours of returning, she was back. This place was cursed to her.

"Look, Quinn, I love you but I have to go. I have meetings all afternoon."

She felt like crying. Or screaming. Or both. Or most of all, she wanted him to say that the meetings weren't important and that he would be flying out to meet her within the hour. But she couldn't ask that of him, she knew his job, she knew that her own absence made his work load bigger.

"Okay" she said. "I love you too."

"Don't you have any friends who never left? Someone who could keep you company while you wait?"  
"Not really."

"There has to be someone who never got out?"

"Not any friends."

"You sure? I think it would be good for you to talk to someone other than your mother for a little while."

She thought of telling him about lunch with Puck and Jake, but decided against it. It was too much to explain and he had to go to some meeting.

"Okay, I'll try."  
"Good for you" he said warmly, as if she was a little girl or a dog.

No, why was she being so hard on him?

"Dad sends his regards" Michael said, now very formal, as he always was when talking about his father.

"Say hi from me" she said meekly.

"I will. And give my love to your mother, okay?"

"Okay."  
"Have faith, Quinn" he said once more.

They hung up. She leaned her head against a white wall and tried to breathe slowly, like they taught you in yoga class. She only stopped as the sound of a pair of feet came closer.

"Are you alright?" a nurse asked.

Quinn had never seen him before, it wasn't anyone she knew, and she was thankful for it.

"My father might die" she said.

"I'm sorry" the man said, he stepped closer to her and patted her shoulder.

His hand smelled of disinfectant and hand crème.

"He might die and if he does, it's my fault."

"I'm sure it's not" the nurse replied calmly.

"Actually it is."

He looked into her eyes in way that only people who saw multiple people cry in front of them every day could.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

"Yes" she replied.

"Do you want some coffee?"

"I've had three cups. My hands are already shaking."  
"Are you here alone?"  
"No, my mother's here too but… she's crying. She's been crying for days."

"Okay."

The nurse seemed to wreck his brain for some other suggestion.

"How about you call a friend?" he asked.

"I have none here."

"No one?"

"I don't know."  
"Sometimes it's more important to not be alone than you are with" he said.

"Really?"  
"I think so."  
"Okay. I'll call him."

…

They sat once again in the entrance hall but it was day now and more people walked past them. Some were crying and some were happy and some were leaving and some were arriving. He sat next to her and his physical presence seemed to calm her down a little.

"Now that wasn't that bad, was it?" he teased. "Asking for help."  
She didn't reply since she wasn't in the mood for teasing. Her hands were clamped together as if she was planning to punch someone, but really, she was trying to stop herself from crying. She hated crying in front of people.

"What if he dies?" she asked, and her voice broke.

"He hasn't yet" he replied. "Don't grieve in advance."  
"But what if he does, it's because of me. Because of what I decided."  
"It was a fifty-fifty decision, Quinn. If you had chosen not to operate he might have died from that too."

A family passed them, the little girl's nose was bleeding heavily and her father was carrying her, running through the hall. Quinn followed them with her eyes. A nurse hurried towards them. The girl was crying loudly. She watched it all but couldn't take it in.

"I had my appendix out here" Puck told her. "I was six. Never felt that much pain in my life."

"That's 'cause you never had to deliver a baby" she whispered.

"Well, I offered but you wanted to do it so badly…"

"Shut up."  
He grinned.

"Don't try to distract me" she told him. "I want to think about this. I need to think about this."  
"Alright" he said.

"Do you know how many times I wished that he was dead?"

"Almost as many as I have, I guess."  
"You're not his daughter."

"No, but I hated him because of how he treated you" he said, softly. "Just because he was in an accident, it doesn't change what he did or how he acted."

"I should be able to forgive."

"Don't blame yourself for him treating you badly."

"Mom says it doesn't matter now. She says that it doesn't matter that they're divorced."

"Your mother is-"

"She still loves him."

He shifted on the hard bench, closer to her, his leg almost touching hers. That distracted her more than his story about the appendix. His jean clothed knee next to her bare one.

"Did she tell you that?"

"Yes" Quinn replied. "They are divorced, haven't spoken to each other in years, and still, she's the one who watches him die."

"Some would call that romantic."

"I call it tragic."  
He put his arm around her shoulder and she felt herself melt into the fabric of his sweater.

"Let's go find Dr. Lopez" he said. "Get some answers."

"Okay" she agreed.

…

"It's good to see you two together again" Dr. Lopez said.

"We're not…" she began.

"He doesn't mean it like that" Puck said. "Right, Dr. L?"  
"Right" the doctor agreed, but still she took a step away from Puck to prove her point.

"How's my dad?" she asked.

"I don't know, Quinn. I've been in my own surgeries all day."

"Oh."  
"But I expect they will be finishing up shortly."  
"Okay."

Puck placed a hand on the small of her back. She didn't shrug away from it. That hand was the only thing that seemed to keep her upright.

"I'll go check how everything's going" Santana's father told them. "Do you want to wait in my office?"  
"Okay."  
They watched him walk off in a brisk pace and stepped into his cluttered office. Pictures of Santana were placed on every imaginable surface; baby pictures and year book photos and snapshots from one of her commercials. Quinn couldn't picture Russell filling his office with pictures of her.

"Do you want me to leave?" Puck asked. "Before your mother finds out that I'm here?"

"No, please stay."

"Alright" he said.

He sat down on Dr. Lopez chair and spun round and round while humming. She watched him in silence. He seemed at ease with her now, even though her father might be dying and even though she had snapped at him earlier. Perhaps he was a good actor, pretending as to sooth her. If that was the case, she felt eternally grateful.

"How long can it take to ask a question?" she mumbled.

He stopped mid-spin and got to his feet. In the small office, he standing up meant him standing mere inches away from her. She could see every eyelash, every line, and every facial movement. He wasn't that much taller than her and if she stood on tiptoe, she could have leaned her forehead against his. But she didn't.

"Whatever happens" he told her. "whatever happens, you will be okay."  
The door opened with a jolt. Quinn almost jumped into the air. Dr. Lopez looked them, standing so close together and Quinn wanted to tell him that she was afraid and Puck was giving her comfort and that was it.

"Any news, Doc?" Puck asked casually.

"Yes, yes. The surgery was a success, the swelling has decreased and your father is being brought out of the operating room as we speak."

Quinn nodded. She felt no glee or happiness or even relief. She just nodded. She hadn't killed him. He was going to live. He couldn't blame her for killing him.

"Do you want to see him?" Dr. Lopez asked.

"No" she replied. "No. I'm going home. I need to sleep."


	3. family reunion

She didn't have the key to her mother's new apartment and didn't want to go into her father's room to ask for it. However, she had the key to his house. Puck drove her there.

"You sure this is what you want?" he asked.

"No" she replied. "This is not what I want. I want to be in DC, with Michael, watching _Scandal_ on DVR."

He didn't respond. She didn't say anything else either for about five minutes but didn't leave the car either.

"I have to sleep" she said finally. "Maybe for two or three years."

"Yeah" he agreed.

"Thank you for being there for me today. I didn't know who else to call."

"I'm happy to be the last resort."

"Stop."  
"It's your birthday on Friday, right?"

She had to think for minute before realizing that it was true. She was turning twenty-five on Friday. How absurd.

"I guess."

"We should celebrate."  
"I might not be here on Friday" she said.

"Okay, no pressure. But if you are, we should do something. Round up all of us who are still here, get dinner and then drunk."

"Maybe" she sighed. "I can't make any real decisions right now. My father almost died and then he didn't and I haven't slept in ages."  
"Alright."

He reached over and squeezed her shoulder.

"Just call me before you leave" he said. "Promise?"

She nodded.

"Promise."

The house looked more or less the same as it had when she left for the last time at sixteen. She went upstairs to her room without inspecting the lower floor any closer and lay down on her old, small bed. A poster of Jesus loomed down on her and she almost pitied the old, naïve Quinn Fabray. She fell asleep without undressing and didn't wake up until the next morning.

…

"Honey, there you are!"  
Her mother's voice was that much lighter and less worried than yesterday that Quinn almost didn't recognize it.

"I had to sleep" Quinn responded.

"He woke up just a few hours ago. Still a bit groggy but he's awake."

"That's great, mom."  
"Come in and see him!"

"Mom, you should get some sleep too."

"I will, I promise, but will you please come here? I want to have my entire family together."  
"We're not family anymore, mom."  
"Don't say that."

"I came home for you, not for him."

"Quinn, he is your father. Please come with me and hold his hand. He needs it and frankly, so do you."

"I'm going home" Quinn said. "I'll go and say hi and them I'm going back to DC."

"Come on."

They stepped into the room once again. Someone had drawn the curtains which made the room darker than earlier, something that didn't agree with the Judy's mood.

"Oh, he went back to sleep" she whispered.

Her father looked no different, except the he no longer had a machine to help him breathe. Some of his hair had been shaven off and exposed a large, Frankenstein's monster-like scar. He could have been dead from the look of him.

"Quinn?"

Dr. Lopez stood in the doorway.

"Yes?"

"Can I speak with you for a moment?"  
She needed and went back into the hallway. When looking at the his face, she felt bad for overreacting and bringing in another doctor. It had been irrational and unkind of her.

"How is he doing?" she asked.

"Better. The surgery was a success. Good call, Quinn."

"I'm sorry about calling Dr. Jones. It my boyfriend's suggestion and I was scared and…"

"Believe me, it's okay. He is a great surgeon; it was an honor to work with him."

"Where is he now?"  
"He flew home early this morning."

She nodded.

"Okay. What do we do now?"

"We wait and let your father recover."

"He might get worse again?"

"The brain is complex thing, Quinn. We never know how it is going to react to trauma, swelling or surgery."

"Okay."  
"We're going to keep a look out for personality changes, aphasia, headaches, epilepsy and strokes."

"Strokes?"  
"Bleeding in the brain."

"I know, I just thought…"

"The prognosis is good, I'm just keeping you informed."

"Did you tell my mom this?"  
"I legally can't. You're his next of kin, she's not."

Quinn nodded again. Dr. Lopez smiled kindly at her which made her miss Santana. They hardly ever spoke but in that moment Quinn wanted to call her up.

"If he needs surgery again, for whatever reason, I want you to do it" she said. "You and not someone who will leave the hospital before my father has even woken up."

"Okay" Dr. Lopez said calmly. "Now go and sit with your father."

…

At last Judy agreed to go home. Thankfully, Dr. Lopez's shift was ending and he could drive her home. Quinn didn't trust her mother to drive while being that exhausted. It was enough with one parent almost dying. So she watched her mother leave and took her place on the stool next to her father's bed. He slept for hours before waking up when in the early evening.

"Hi dad" she said.

He focused his eyes on her. Before answering, he lifted his hand and lifted a cup of water to his lips. Quinn felt relief, he wasn't paralyzed.

"Where's your mother?" he asked.

His voice was low and raspy, but he was speaking. He really was fine. Quinn hadn't really been able to accept it until now.

"She went home to rest. She's been here for days."

She hoped in vain that he would say something, praising her loyalty, but he didn't.

"How are you feeling?" Quinn asked.

"Groggy."

"I bet."

"What happened to the car?"

"It's getting repaired. We thought that was what you wanted."

"Good. That's a fucking expensive car."

"Yeah, but it's just a car, dad."

He lifted an eyebrow at her, just as he always did when he was going to mock her. She had decided ages ago to not care when he did that and still, she did.

"You mean my life is worth more? Don't lie, Quinny, you hate me, right?"  
"Don't" she sighed. "I'm here, aren't I?"

He lay his head back down on the pillow. She thought of how she had wasted days on this man. She thought of how she wished that he would have some kind of personality change. It couldn't get worse.

"Call the police" her father suddenly said. "I want that bastard who hit me to go to jail."

"He's dead" Quinn said bluntly.

"Wha-"

"He died on the scene."

For a fraction of a second, she thought her father would show some kind of remorse. But the second passed.

"Better him than me" he mumbled.

Quinn excused herself.

…

Too soon, her mother was back. She wore a fresh changed of clothes, too nice clothes for the hospital in fact. And make up. Red lipstick, eyeliner and mascara. She smelled of Chanel and that was the moment that Quinn realized that things wouldn't go back as they were before. Her mother was in love anew. She looked like a lovesick teenager, a bride on her wedding day.

"My family together again" she said in awe.

Russell didn't take his eyes from the game on TV. Judy tried to make small talk about the weather and his health but he ignored her, sometimes making a groaning sound with the intention of shutting her up. Flashbacks of from her childhood hit Quinn and she hurried to intervene.

"Mom, dad looks tired. Let's give him some space."

"Yeah, thanks" her father replied.

Judy stared longingly at the man who clearly had no interest in her and started to protest. Quinn took her hand, pulled her towards the door and shut it behind her.

"Mom, don't" she begged.

"What?" her mother replied.

"We're not a family."

"We will be. I've been thinking. We should never have filed for that divorce. Nothing good came of it, right? You, his child, had to make the calls about his life, instead of me, his life companion. It's not right. He knows it too."

"He cheated on you, for years and years."

"That was then and-"

"He threw me out of the house when I was sixteen!"

"We were all in shock because of the pregnancy, honey. You can't blame him for that."  
"Who should we blame instead, mom?" Quinn asked, her voice louder than she had intended. "Puck?"

"Don't shout, honey."  
"I'm not."

She began to pace the corridor, the endless corridor she had come to know so well of the past couple of days. Her mother looked at her, never leaving the spot outside the door. A man in wheelchair passed them. Two nurses rushing in the opposite direction.

"He doesn't love us, mom. I don't think he ever did."  
"Don't say that" Judy ordered her. "That's not true."  
Quinn wanted to scream at her until she understood. She wanted to shake her, to wrinkle her impeccable outfit. She wanted to mess up her carefully straightened hair until she finally got it.

"Please mom" she begged instead. "Don't say anything to him about it. Don't ask him for anything. He has nothing to give."

They stared at each other. Quinn despised her in that moment. If her mother was suddenly seeking to be remarried to the man who had made her life hell, Quinn couldn't leave. She had to stay here and wait until her father had broken Judy's heart.

"Please" she begged again, for herself, for her life in DC, for Michael and for her mother's sake.

"You don't know what you're talking about" her mother replied and went back into the room.

…

She watched him work on her father's car in silence. He had said nothing when she entered the shop, just nodded and smiled. She was thankful for his silence because she couldn't explain why she was here. Perhaps because of that she had nowhere else to go, but that wasn't true. Perhaps because of habit, because she had spent hours and hours waiting for first Finn and then Puck in this shop when it belonged to Burt. Time really stood still in some ways.

"You're not leaving then?" he asked, his back to her.

"No" she sighed. "Doesn't look like it."

"But he's better, right? Your dad?"  
"Yes, but my mother is worse. She talks about much she _loves _him again."

"So you're going to babysit her until it passes?"  
"Something like that."  
He laughed softly. She had tried to explain this to Michael who hadn't understood it at all. To him, people didn't get divorces and if they did and then wanted to get back together, that was a good thing. She couldn't really blame him though, he had the perfect family who loved each other to the limit. He didn't understand the concept of a dysfunctional family.

"What is going to happen if you don't?" Puck asked. "Is he going to break her heart or are they going to remarry?"  
"I don't know" Quinn replied. "And I'm not sure which of them I prefer."  
"The heart break. At least that doesn't force you to sit through a wedding."  
"Yeah, maybe."  
He grabbed a tool from the box at his feet. She had been in this shop so many times but never really watched the work. It had always been something boring, something that Finn or Puck had to do before they could make out or drive her to a baby checkup. But he was skilled. He never hesitated but never seemed rushed. His hands looked soft but they never shook. Her father's baby looked better already.

"At least we'll be able to have that party" he said.

"For my birthday?"  
"Yeah, it'll be great."  
"I don't know. I feel like I don't know any of you anymore."

"You know me."  
"Do I?"

"Sure. In your eyes, I haven't changed at all, have I?"  
"I never said that."  
"No, but you thought it."

She didn't contradict him. Her goal had always been to leave this town, to go as far as she could and never look back. His goal seemed to be the exact opposite. It was a wonder that he wasn't married to someone like Kitty Wilde already, living in a small house with three kids and a dog.

"What else would you do for your birthday?" he asked, turning around to look at her. "Look at your parents falling in love again?"  
She made a gagging noise which made him turn around and smile at her.

"Fine. We can have dinner."

"It's a date then" he concluded.

"No, I mean…"  
"I'm just messing with you, Q" he grinned. "I know you're practically married. I promise to invite more people."

…

"Happy birthday, honey."

Judy beamed and hugged her tightly. Russell didn't say anything but he made some kind of grimace at her, which she chose to interpret as a smile. Twenty-five, half way to middle aged.

"Twenty-five" Judy whispered. "I can't believe it. Seconds ago you were just a little baby and here you are now, taking care of hospital bills and bringing us food…"

"You going out?" Russell asked, eyeing the only dress Quinn had found in her old closet that was wearable to go out and eat with "friends".

It was out of style of course and too loose around the chest, but did it really matter? It wasn't a Yale banquet or fund-raiser for charity or somewhere else where she had to look respectable. It was dinner at Breadstix. Nothing else.

"Or is Michael coming here?" Judy asked. "I would love to meet him."

"He's stuck with work" she replied, even though she wasn't really sure if it was true.

Honestly, he hadn't called her yet. She couldn't blame him for forgetting her birthday, he had a bad memory for things like that, that was why they made such a good team. She remembered his parents' anniversary and he loved her for it.

"We could get some food, celebrate as a family" Judy suggested.

She had been using the word _family _so much lately that Quinn had forgotten its meaning. She couldn't tell if Judy was more in love with Russell or with the idea of their _family _being together again. Both of them were horrible options.

"I'm actually going to dinner with some people."

"Really? Who? It's not like you keep in touch with anyone" her father said.

She wondered how he could possibly know that. Or maybe he thought that because she didn't call him every Friday, she treated every person that way.

"Some old friends form school" she answered.

Judy tilted her head to one side. She looked imploringly at her, as if Quinn was still a little girl and the cookies were all gone and Judy wanted to know who ate them.

"Not Puck, I hope?"  
"Yes, actually."

"Are you trying to kill your mother?" Russell asked. "She's hysterical enough already."  
"I am an adult. I can take care of myself."

"He never had a good influence on you" Judy mumbled.

"No one has an influence on me anymore."

She pulled at her dress. She wished that she hadn't worn it so that they hadn't known she was going out. She had been stupid enough to think that she didn't need to lie to her parents anymore.

"I'll be back in the morning" she said and almost added that they shouldn't do anything stupid, like she was the parent.

Judy nodded, smiling once again. She was so impossibly happy about being "back" with Russell that she had a tendency to forget anything else. She sat on the edge of his bed and sort of leaned towards him, not really touching but almost. Russell didn't seem to notice it.

…

Breadstix looked the same, of course. It hadn't been converted into a chain or been remodeled or even changed its menu. She was the first one there and waited outside nervously. She was often nervous about dinners, but that was dinners with congressmen or with Michael's family or someone important. This was Breadstix, for crying out loud, with Puck and the few people he could convince to join them.

"Hey" he called in that moment.

He looked nice, clean, no oil on his hands and a denim shirt that looked almost new. He gave her a hug.

"Happy Birthday, Q" he grinned.

"Thanks."

"Let's go in."

"There are more people coming, right?" she asked gingerly.

He laughed.

"No, this is scam to make you fall in love with me."  
She rolled her eyes and he draped his arm around her shoulders. She wondered if he was immune to social norms that said that you weren't allowed to touch your ex this much.

"Jake and Kitty are running late, they are always late and blame Jenny. I doubt a two year old takes two hours to fix her hair though."  
"Jake is married to Kitty? Kitty Wilde?"  
"Yeah, didn't I say that?"  
"No" Quinn said, smiling cheekily. "Didn't you used to date her?"  
"Shut up."

They made their way through the restaurant. The crowd was basically the same and so was the staff. The waitress showed them to one of bigger tables. Quinn remembered some kind of group date around that very table, ages ago. Jesse St. James had told she looked like a modern Grace Kelly or something like that.

"How did they end up getting married?" Quinn asked, as she picked up the menu even though she knew it by heart.

"Nothing special really, the normal thing. Boy meets girl, they have sex or something, girl dates boy's brother, boy does stupid shit."  
"Romantic."

"They think so" Puck remarked. "Anyway, you're twenty-five now. How does it feel?"  
"Old, I guess."

"Really?"  
"My mother had me when she was twenty-five."

"Well, just ask your boyfriend and I'm sure he would make it happen."  
"Don't be vulgar."  
"You call that vulgar? Trust me, I could have phrased it much differently."

She grimaced until he laughed. She didn't want to talk about making babies with him, despite the fact that he was only one who had yet managed to make her pregnant.

"I'm actually surprised that you're not married yet" Puck said.

"How so?"  
"I always that that was your highest dream? To meet some rich, powerful man and marry him."

"You make me sound like a gold digger."  
"Well…" he grinned.

She leaned over the table and smacked his shoulder. He grabbed her hand and held it for too long before releasing it.

"Honestly though, why not?" he asked. "Why isn't there a ring on your finger?"

He looked too intently into her eyes. She wanted to blink but suddenly couldn't remember how.  
"Why isn't there one on yours?" she retaliated.

"Never met anyone who wanted to make an honest man out of me."  
"Well, I haven't been asked either" she admitted.

They weren't supposed to talk about things like this. They were supposed to talk about the weather, if anything, not the current status of her love life. It was off limits.

"Here they are now" Puck announced.

Quinn turned her neck and spotted Kitty and Jake in the doorway. Jake was carrying a child on his hip and held his wife's hand. Quinn had thought that seeing their little family would be humorous but it really wasn't. They looked sweet.

…

She got drunk. She couldn't even remember how it happened. Maybe because she never had more than one glass of wine at a time anymore. Maybe because Mike had dropped by and bought a drink which tasted more of rum than anything else. Maybe because Puck kept refilling her glass. She was drunk.

"I can't understand why you stay here" she slurred. "This place is fucking hellhole."  
"It's our home" Mike's girlfriend said.

Quinn hadn't registered her name and didn't plan to. She was stupid.

"This place is like… incest" Quinn slurred on. "We all slept with each other. Our parents slept with each other parents. It's a never ending circle of incest."

"Quinn…" Puck mumbled.

"Our children as cousins, right?" she asked Kitty, who held her sleeping daughter in her arms. "But they could be siblings, if you just had forgotten the condom when you slept with Puck."  
"And you told _me _not to be vulgar" Puck sighed.

He took her wine glass and finished it for her. Like she was a child who couldn't hold her liqour. She was the oldest one there, her birthday was before both Puck's and Mike's. They were all imbecilic idiots who knew nothing about the real world.

"What is it that you do in New York?" Mike asked, kindly.

"I work in PR" she replied. "Do you know what that is?"  
He frowned.

"Yes, I do."  
"Sorry, I wasn't sure, since none of you went to college."

"_Hey_" Puck said.

"I went to college" Mike muttered.

"Not everyone's goal in life is to get a degree in something useless" Kitty snapped, showing her old self, the one that reminded everyone of Quinn's old self.

"Well, my goal isn't to get knocked up at twenty."

"You mean, knocked up again?"

"_Hey_" Puck said again.

This time he got up and yanked on Quinn's arm too.

"We're getting air" he ordered.

"You don't make decisions for me" she snapped.

"You're fucking wasted."  
He dragged her out of the restaurant. Her legs were too unstable for her to let go of him. She clung to his shoulder as they stood outside Breadstix. She checked the time on his wrist. It was only ten o'clock.

"Man, you're a mean drunk" he told her.

"Well, you're a loser."

"Wow, nice comeback" he sneered.

"I'm not going to fall in love with you" she told him. "Stop trying to make me. Stop trying to touch me and hug me and…"

"You're the one holding onto me" he commented.

She let go and almost fell over. He grabbed her waist to keep her upright. His hands were hot but her skin was even hotter. She felt like she was burning up from within.

"You're not like this anymore" he said tonelessly. "You haven't been this mean in ages."  
"You don't know me."

"Look, I know you're sad about your dad and worried about your mom but…"  
"Don't play psychologist. You know nothing about things like this. You know how to fix cars, not analyze people."

"Hey, just because I didn't go to Yale doesn't make me stupid."  
"Doesn't it?"  
She knew that she was pushing it. She knew it and she didn't care. She saw how his face changed as he got more and more angry with her and she relished it.

"Call your mom" he said. "Call your mom and make her drive you home."  
"It's my party in there…"

"Just leave."

…

She walked alone on unsteady legs back to her father's house. There she found his liquor cabinet and filled a glass of whisky to brim. She tried to cry but she couldn't. She hadn't cried since her mother called and told that her father was on the brink of death. Instead she called Michael. Her birthday was almost over. He had forgotten about it. Earlier in the day, it hadn't mattered to her, but suddenly it mattered very much.

"Hello?"

His voice was muffled. She guessed that he was out with work, she usually joined them on Fridays too, having one glass of Merlot and driving them all home. She wondered who was going to be the designated driver now.

"It's me" she said.

"Sorry?"

"It's me" she repeated, louder.

"Quinn?"  
"Yes."  
"Wait, I'm going outside, wait a second."  
She was quiet as she heard him excuse himself to their colleagues and step out onto the street outside the bar. She heard him breathe in the receiver as if he had run a marathon.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked.

"It's my birthday today" she replied, fighting to keep any slurring out of her speech and failing.

"_Shit_. I'm sorry, Quinn, you know I'm useless with dates."

"Yeah, I know."

"Don't be mad, okay? Happy Birthday!"

"Last year, I wrote it down for you in your calendar."

"I know, I know, but I never check my calendar. You know that."  
"Maybe you should."

"Quinn, are you drunk?"  
She thought of lying but she was too drunk to pull it off.

"Yes."

"Okay, go to bed then and sleep it off. We'll speak in the morning."  
"No, I want to talk to you now. It's the least you can do after what you did."

"I forgot your birthday" he sighed. "I didn't kill anyone."  
"Don't sigh at me" she snapped.

"Don't whine at me. What's wrong with you? You are never like this."  
"I never complain" she agreed. "I do whatever you tell me."  
"Quinn, go to bed. I'll talk to you in the morning."  
"Why can't you fly out here tomorrow? It's the weekend."

"Quinn, we'll speak tomorrow, okay?"  
"Why don't you want to be with me, Michael? My father was _dying_."

"Hey, I sent help, didn't I?"  
"I didn't need another doctor, I needed you."

His voice softened a little.

"I'm sorry, honey. I really am. But your mother was with you, right?"

"She was useless. You left me no other choice but to call the only person in this town who likes me and do you know why he likes me? Because he's in love with me."

Michael sighed again. Quinn clenched her teeth together.

"I'll call you-"  
"Why can't you be jealous? Why won't you ask if I made out with him tonight? He did actually remember my birthday and fixed a dinner for me and-"  
"I trust you" Michael said.

"No" she replied. "You just don't care."

…


End file.
